Read Online Dragonhammer: Volume I by Conner McCall - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Conner McCall
Ads: Link
grounds with Percival.
Nathaniel has tired of the archery range and is now training with his warhammer. I join him, as well as the others who are still up there. It does me little good. We do not see Gunther.
That night I have difficulty sleeping. I get up to cool my head, but just before I open the door, I hear voices in the hall.
“What do you think the outcome of this battle will be?” I hear.
“I don’t like to ponder such things,” says the second voice.
“So you think we’ll lose?”
“Not necessarily. I just don’t want to entertain the possibility.”
“But you think it likely,” the first voice retorts.
“I think we’ve given a bunch of farmers swords,” growls the second voice. “What good are people who don’t know how to use a sword? They’ll be fighting trained soldiers! It’s not enough to simply fight off of will to retain their homes!”
The first voice doesn’t respond for a moment. “So you think Terrace is lost,” he concludes.
Hesitation. “Yes. I think we will lose,” says the second voice. “But I have been wrong before.”
Having had enough, I go back to bed with my head spinning in turmoil. The exact thoughts had been hurling through my head only minutes before I heard them spoken. To hear them spoken breaks me.
Within the next few minutes, I somehow find sleep. My dreams are of chaos and mayhem, so rest brings little consolation to my weary mind.
The next morning I am awoken abruptly by the deep blaring of a war horn.
The Battle Begins
E very one of us dons our armor in frenzy, strapping on swords, shields, and quivers. At the last minute I decide to bring my bow, strapping it to my back and simply carrying my warhammer. We burst out of the bunkrooms and into the hall, where every man is running towards the front gate of the Keep.
Somehow in the chaos we manage to stay together as a group: my father and Nathaniel, Percival, James, Jericho, their fathers, Leon, and Bownan. In what seems like seconds we rush over the steps out of the Keep and into the streets of Terrace, where we continue until we reach the front gate of the city. The warhorn blares the whole time, until this point. The enormous torches are flaring brightly, casting orange light all about the cliff sides. The sun has yet to rise.
My group stays down, behind and to the left of the gate. Nathaniel salutes to us and says, “I’ll see you later.” Then he runs up the stairs onto the wall, and then into a doorway that leads through the mountain and into the left Clifftower.
It only takes another minute for all the other men to take position. Then all stand silently at their posts, waiting for it to begin.
Suddenly there is a warhorn. It’s different from ours; it comes from the other side of the gate and has a harsh, straight tone. The yells and cries of many men follow it, creating a horrible roar. Then suddenly it stops.
“What’s going on?” somebody behind me whispers.
Then it begins.
We unleash a volley of arrows from the wall and towers. Their archers retaliate, but I’m assuming with much less success. I see very few bodies drop from the wall.
My thoughts turn to Nathaniel. He’ll be fine , I convince myself. He’ll be fine.
At this point there’s really not much I can do. I just wish that I could see what was going on outside the gate.
“Shoot down the ram carriers!” I hear. Then, above the shouting, I hear a sharp CRACK! The gate budges inward slightly, but springs back and bounces slightly. “Brace the gate!” I hear. Then a swarm of men crowds against the gate, pressing against it. The sharp noise comes again and the gate shakes. The crowd of men is pushed back by the force, but they rebound. All the while arrows zing from the wall and the Clifftowers; we are receiving fairly few arrows in return.
“I have to see,” I mutter to my father. Before he
Nathaniel has tired of the archery range and is now training with his warhammer. I join him, as well as the others who are still up there. It does me little good. We do not see Gunther.
That night I have difficulty sleeping. I get up to cool my head, but just before I open the door, I hear voices in the hall.
“What do you think the outcome of this battle will be?” I hear.
“I don’t like to ponder such things,” says the second voice.
“So you think we’ll lose?”
“Not necessarily. I just don’t want to entertain the possibility.”
“But you think it likely,” the first voice retorts.
“I think we’ve given a bunch of farmers swords,” growls the second voice. “What good are people who don’t know how to use a sword? They’ll be fighting trained soldiers! It’s not enough to simply fight off of will to retain their homes!”
The first voice doesn’t respond for a moment. “So you think Terrace is lost,” he concludes.
Hesitation. “Yes. I think we will lose,” says the second voice. “But I have been wrong before.”
Having had enough, I go back to bed with my head spinning in turmoil. The exact thoughts had been hurling through my head only minutes before I heard them spoken. To hear them spoken breaks me.
Within the next few minutes, I somehow find sleep. My dreams are of chaos and mayhem, so rest brings little consolation to my weary mind.
The next morning I am awoken abruptly by the deep blaring of a war horn.
The Battle Begins
E very one of us dons our armor in frenzy, strapping on swords, shields, and quivers. At the last minute I decide to bring my bow, strapping it to my back and simply carrying my warhammer. We burst out of the bunkrooms and into the hall, where every man is running towards the front gate of the Keep.
Somehow in the chaos we manage to stay together as a group: my father and Nathaniel, Percival, James, Jericho, their fathers, Leon, and Bownan. In what seems like seconds we rush over the steps out of the Keep and into the streets of Terrace, where we continue until we reach the front gate of the city. The warhorn blares the whole time, until this point. The enormous torches are flaring brightly, casting orange light all about the cliff sides. The sun has yet to rise.
My group stays down, behind and to the left of the gate. Nathaniel salutes to us and says, “I’ll see you later.” Then he runs up the stairs onto the wall, and then into a doorway that leads through the mountain and into the left Clifftower.
It only takes another minute for all the other men to take position. Then all stand silently at their posts, waiting for it to begin.
Suddenly there is a warhorn. It’s different from ours; it comes from the other side of the gate and has a harsh, straight tone. The yells and cries of many men follow it, creating a horrible roar. Then suddenly it stops.
“What’s going on?” somebody behind me whispers.
Then it begins.
We unleash a volley of arrows from the wall and towers. Their archers retaliate, but I’m assuming with much less success. I see very few bodies drop from the wall.
My thoughts turn to Nathaniel. He’ll be fine , I convince myself. He’ll be fine.
At this point there’s really not much I can do. I just wish that I could see what was going on outside the gate.
“Shoot down the ram carriers!” I hear. Then, above the shouting, I hear a sharp CRACK! The gate budges inward slightly, but springs back and bounces slightly. “Brace the gate!” I hear. Then a swarm of men crowds against the gate, pressing against it. The sharp noise comes again and the gate shakes. The crowd of men is pushed back by the force, but they rebound. All the while arrows zing from the wall and the Clifftowers; we are receiving fairly few arrows in return.
“I have to see,” I mutter to my father. Before he
Similar Books
